The Meaning of Hair Brushes
by KousukeAsazuki
Summary: Shinji takes great pride in his hair and puts the responsibility of its well-being onto the shoulders of his lieutenant.


"Captain Hirako?"

"Eh? What is it, Sousuke? Don't talk so much, ya need t' be concentratin'."

The pair, Shinji and his annoyingly-obsessive compulsive lieutenant, were seated in the former's quarters. The day had been long and hot and with all the playful fights the captain had been in- almost all of them with Hiyori and a few of them not so playful- not to mention the general dirt and sweat that came from running around Soul Society, Shinji's long, golden locks had taken almost as much of a beating as the man himself. As soon as his day had been done- which really meant as soon as Aizen finished all of the paperwork Shinji had put off the previous week- Shinji had immediately bathed and tended to his hair. Of course, washing and drying it were simple tasks; combing it was another beast entirely.

That was were Aizen came in. After all, what else was he good for? Paperwork and hair combing seemed to be the only areas he excelled in. Well, that wasn't true by a long shot, and Shinji knew it, but he derived some sort of satisfaction from at least thinking it. He might say it a few times, too; his lieutenant would never think to argue the point. Obedience was another strong point of his.

He probably knew, to some extent, that wasn't entirely true, either.

But regardless of whatever else Aizen was good at, and no matter what might be crossing his mind at any point, Shinji wasn't concerned with it. Right now, Aizen _should_ have been focusing on his hair, making sure each and every strand was well-cared for, but instead he wanted a conversation. For being marked as a quiet man, this guy really did like to talk. He didn't speak much, but the words that did pass by his lips carried a thousand conversations on their own.

"I was just wondering," Aizen began, eyeing the length of hair before him. He took a portion of it very carefully- it would be his head if his hands were anything _but_ careful in this situation- and ran a comb through it slowly, careful not to snag any knots and instead meticulously work them out. He continued this process many, many times as he spoke. "You don't let anyone touch your hair."

Shinji snorted lightly through his nose and crossed his arms indignantly. "That ain't a question," he informed the man behind him haughtily, as if he'd caught a huge blunder the man made. "'Sides, what's it matter to ya? You get t' touch it, don't ya?" He wrinkled his nose a bit at that thought. If he really thought anyone else was as obsessively anal retentive as his lieutenant, he would seek them out, but really, Aizen won the prize when it came to the category of freakishly particular. He didn't necessarily like the idea of Aizen's hands touching any part of him, but it was a begrudging trust he placed in his lieutenant's capable fingers.

"It doesn't matter," Aizen assured the other, a cool nonchalance lacing his formal tone. He was always formal, even in a laid-back situation such as he was in now. After all, it wouldn't do to be pegged as disrespectful; negative connotations with his character would inhibit his goals greatly. "For as much as you claim you dislike me, however, it seems odd that you would entrust such a valuable task to me."

Of course Shinji said he didn't like the guy; Shinji said he didn't like everyone. Well, except Ukitake, but the Thirteenth Division Captain was too nice of a guy to insult. And Unohana, but she was just scary as hell and getting on her bad side, Shinji was sure, would not enable his continued well-being. But to think that Aizen actually took his snide little comments to heart nearly made the toothy captain laugh. Even though Aizen really _was_ one of the people that Shinji didn't like- the sort of dislike that settles in the pit of one's stomach and festers each time the person is near until it becomes a seething hatred- Shinji would never say so. Keep your enemies closer, they always say. It was another good excuse for why he acted as if he trusted Aizen enough to let him brush his hair every evening.

"Sousuke, ya crack me up," Shinji laughed, grinning widely enough to show every tooth in his mouth. "I say that 'bout everyone. S'only true for some people."

"Is it true for me?" Aizen kept his voice low and unhurried, attempting to coax the truth out of his captain. Of course he saw the small looks Shinji would give him from across the room. Not like the obnoxious looks he gave Hiyori or the jealous glances he shot Ukitake and Kyouraku when they were talking with girls that had already turned him down, but the kind that said no matter what Aizen did, Shinji would never trust him or accept him. Aizen was fine with those looks and returned them with a smile because, deep down, the feelings were mutual. And still, despite their unspoken understanding of their feelings toward each other, these conversations kept taking place. Ones that baited and attempted to instigate a reaction out of the other man; ones that treaded on the dangerous territory of revealing the true faces behind the masks they wore, which really only fooled everyone around them.

Shinji remained quiet for a long moment, as if seriously contemplating how to answer the question. Of course there was his typical reaction of calling his lieutenant an idiot for asking such an obvious thing. But then there was the other answer- the real one- that told Aizen just what he was to Shinji and, though he had no proof of it, that the blonde captain thought his subordinate would one day be the death of him.

"You're an idiot," Shinji finally muttered, shooting a glance over his shoulder to the other man. "Ya think I'd let ya touch my hair if I really hated your guts?" He turned his attention back in front of him, brows furrowing in thought. "Do ya know what my hair means to me? It might seem like something I just do for the fun of it, but it's got a lotta status 'bout it. I wouldn't be the same kinda guy if I didn't have this hair. I wouldn't be a captain an' I wouldn't be nearly as sexy."

Despite himself, Aizen cracked a small smile at his captain's lunatic attempt at a joke. "Is that so?" he wondered, running his fingertips down the surface of the other man's hair. "I had no idea it was so important."

"Don't kid yourself," Shinji told him, shifting enough to half-face his lieutenant. Quickly, a delicate hand reached out to snatch the thick-framed glasses from Aizen's nose. "These are the same for you, ain't they? They tell a lot about ya."

Aizen took a moment to react, blinking and acting for the life of him as if Shinji had just stolen his zanpakuto. His expression calmed back into a smile a moment later and he reached back for the glasses, only to watch his captain slide the frames onto a face they didn't belong on. He surveyed the strange sight before him for a moment before sighing and letting his hand drop; he wouldn't be getting them back until Shinji had had his fun, so he took the bait.

"They are simply glasses, Captain Hirako. What could they possibly say about me?"

Shinji adopted a thoughtful expression, tapping his chin and letting his eyes drift up toward the ceiling. "Well, they say ya read too damn much," he began, extending one slender finger from the other hand, counting off his points, "an' they say you're a borin' kinda guy. They also say you're a fake."

For a second, actual shock registered on Aizen's face and his stomach tightened just a bit. Was Shinji finally calling him out? Was this the moment where they stopped being captain and lieutenant and became true enemies? He wasn't prepared to be outcast and judged so quickly; his plans were still in motion and to have this extra hindrance would be a headache and a half. Still, he couldn't deny the words that had been presented to him and was grateful that his slight alarm would have been expected in anyone's case.

"A fake?" he asked, returning his expression to mildly bemused. "How is that so, Captain Hirako?" He put emphasis on the title, hoping to send an underlying tone of his subordination to the other man and quell whatever can of worms he suspected was already open.

"Ain't it obvious?" Shinji asked, sliding the glasses from his nose and moving to shove them back on his lieutenant's face. "They make ya look smart, but you're dumb as a rock. Totally fake."

Aizen couldn't help the smile that spread across his lips and though it was only in relief, he could easily play it off as if he were amusing his captain and taking humor in the joke. "Well, if they say all of that about me, then they must be important," he deduced, sending a glance to the hand that had assaulted his glasses. "And is your reward for entrusting me with your hair that I must do the same with my precious thing?"

Shinji looked the other man up and down a few times, trying to debate on whether Aizen was being serious or just mocking him. Finally, he figured he didn't really give a shit and snorted, looking away from his lieutenant. "Somethin' like that."

* * *

"That bastard!"

"How could he do this to us?"

"Shinji?"

"I'll kill him."

"We'll _all _kill him."

"Hey, Shini!"

"Leave it alone, Hiyori," Lisa sighed, crossing her arms with a frown. The newly-formed vaizards were holed up in a parking lot, trying to sort through everything that had happened. Aizen betraying them, Urahara Kisuke rescuing them, and then their unfortunate disposal into the Living World. It was only slightly better than actually being dead.

"I ain't gonna let him just space out on us!" the smallest of the group shouted to the other female, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. "It's his fault we're all like this, anyway! He shoulda done somethin' 'bout that damn idiot when he had the chance!" He rage turned back toward Shinji as she sent a kick into his side. "Do ya hear me, Horseface? Get up an' take responsibility for this mess!"

"Hiyori," Love murmured, reaching out to put a hand on the small girl's shoulder, "we're all worried about him, but this won't help." Of the entire group, Shinji was the only one who hadn't fully come out of his comatose state, yet. Their suspicions were that Aizen did something different to him, perhaps to add insult to injury, though Urahara said they were all afflicted equally. Really, how much could he know about something like this?

Then, rather abruptly, Shinji stood from his slouched position on the sidewalk. He drew the attention of everyone, but it was Hiyori who spoke first, her voice a little more restrained than before because, yes, she was just worried.

"Shinji?" she asked, emotions raging between pissed off and concerned. "Well? What is it? What are ya gonna do 'bout this?"

Shinji's mouth was tugged down into a huge frown and his eyes, though now focused on the group he'd been outcast with, seemed to lack something they'd had before. He stood like that for a few minutes, swaying slightly on the spot, until he finally spoke in a low voice. "Gotta get my hair cut."

* * *

They broke so easily. Aizen's eyes didn't focus on the glasses he was snapping between his fingers, but every other sense was trained on them. He wondered how, in all of his confrontations previously, they had never been broken before. Not in the serious fights he'd had, where his guard was up and his spiritual pressure protected him from great harm, but in the little things like those times so many years ago when Shinji had abruptly shoved a foot in his face or thrown him to the ground in a fit.

Shinji. Aizen Sousuke was not a sentimental man, nor was he one to linger on times and faces past. However, he would give a small part of himself- not any part he actually needed of course, but an insignificant one, like the small hairs on the back of his neck- for a chance at irony. And this situation, he was certain, could be labeled as ironic. Had Shinji not once told him that his glasses represented who he was; a status symbol that spoke of his person and character? How right he must have been, then, for as Aizen ascended toward the large Menos Grande in the sky, which welcomed him with open arms, he knew he was leaving behind the man everyone thought they knew. Even Gin and Tousen, whom he had been fairly straight-forward with since early on, would be surprised at the changes he would make once his seat in Hueco Mundo was secured.

It was only then that Aizen couldn't help himself from wondering, only out of curiosity and the urge to have the irony in this situation magnified, if Shinji Hirako had modified his own appearance once he was cast out from Soul Society.

It would come as no surprise to either man when they met again that their appearances had changed the way they did.

* * *

The things I think of in the shower.


End file.
